


Sometimes ya gotta make yer own content

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: M/M, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Because no one else writes about this ship and it causes me sadness.Then I try to write something and this comes out.And it causes me physical pain.





	Sometimes ya gotta make yer own content

**Author's Note:**

> help

“You sneeze like a girl.” Sammy snickered.

Wally shot him a glare: “Well, how ‘bout I pound you like a boy!”.

Silence fell in the break room.

“Ok, that didn’t come out right at all.” the janitor finally muttered, suddenly interested in the table.

“Actually,” the music director replied, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Shawn choked back a laugh. Thomas and Grant looked at the blond with somewhat concerned expressions, more for the frank statement than his tastes in love, as Susie’s eyes widened in surprise. Norman simply stood, coffee cup in his hand, unfazed.

Pointing at the older man one table away, Wally slowly said: “If you really meant that, I will take off my clothes right fucking now.”

Another minute of silence passed. Flynn was covering his mouth with both hands, ready to explode at any second.

“I did.” was Sammy’s answer.

Wally bolted up and tried to strip his own shirt off. Norman immediately scooped him in arms and over his shoulders, immobilizing him: “We ain’t doin’ this.”

“NORMAN, NO! PUT ME DOWN! I WAS GONNA GET LAID!”

“ ’nother time, maybe.” and then, turning to Sammy: “You’re both grounded.”

“What? I’m not your son!” the musician protested.

“That don’t mean I can’t ground you.” the projectionist replied, dry, making his way out of the room as his adopted 21-year-old child slapped his back and screeched to make him put him down.

Shawn began howling in laughter. Soon enough he was wheezing, as Sammy, still seated, yelled at the janitor: “Meet me in your closet for an ass eating!”

“YOU BEST BE THERE!”

“I will!”

Wally’s FUCK YES DAMNIT was muffled by the closed door.

“Was that a joke? Or…?” Susie dared to ask.

“I was completely serious.”

“About the… closet part, too?”

“Yes.”

Shawn punched the table on the verge of crying: “And I thought I was blunt!”

“That’s because you are.”

“BUT IT AIN’T MY ASS GETTING GROUNDED!”

Just then Norman came back, slamming the door open. Sammy fell, scared to death, and started: “Jesus Christ-”, but it was already late. Norman swung him over his shoulder and disappeared soon after.

Thomas patted gently the Irishman’s back, afraid he was going to spit out a lung. Susie contemplated her options, and wisely decided to head out and back to her recording booth.

Norman came in shortly after her departure.

“You know they’re probably at it in the closet right now, right?” Thomas said as the projectionist sat down with them.

“Wally didn’t have his keys.”

“Isn’t Sammy the one who usually finds them?” objected Grant.

With a long, long sigh, Norman joined his hands and looked up to the ceiling.

“God,” he called, “What the fuck did I do to deserve this day?”

Shawn, who was starting to calm down after the mad fit of laughter that had taken over him, made the mistake of talking: “Holy shite… This is almost better than that time I saw Drew shoving his tongue in a picture of That Guy Who We Better Not Talk About…”

Grant almost turned white at the sight of the other man’s face.

“Norman, don’t you even think about it.”

But his mind was already set.

Norman bolted up, eyes lit up by fatherly anger, and ran to the goddamned door once again.

“YOU CAN’T GROUND YOUR BOSS, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” shouted the accountant after him.

He simply answered: “WATCH ME, COHEN” and stormed away.


End file.
